


The Darkness Between Two Points

by frk_werewolf (wolfelements)



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Anti God, Blood and Gore, First Meeting, M/M, Telekinesis, Telepathy, insane asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:56:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfelements/pseuds/frk_werewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford and Schuldig meet their newest team member.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Darkness Between Two Points

**Author's Note:**

> Livejournal's tamingthemuse prompt: St. Peter

St. Peter from thefreedictionary.com:  
St. Peter - disciple of Jesus and leader of the Apostles; regarded by Catholics as the vicar of Christ on earth and first Pope.

 

Schuldig knew part of this exercise was to test him. While gaining a new team member was important, for a telepath to enter Ireland's highest guarded home for the criminally insane was nothing more than suicide. Yet, Schuldig was self-confident--some claimed egotistical--about his own abilities. He could do this and more.

Making the doctor believe they were from a prestigious experimental prison in Germany that was interested in their most difficult case for further study was simple, child's play. They provided clearance to see the patient alone (nothing more than an empty notebook, but Schuldig was in his prime while manipulating the doctor's mind). The white door was opened to reveal a white room. Schuldig followed Crawford through and ignored the sound of the door being closed behind him. 

Instead he stared at the figure huddled in the corner. Stark white hair, even whiter than the padded walls, contrasted with the palest skin Schuldig had ever seen. A black eye patch stood out, covering his left eye. The man who, despite the way he was curled up within himself, was obviously tall and slender. The straightjacket was on tight, while he pants were slightly loose, revealing a smooth hip with a single, deep scar running across it.

_He's beautiful._

Schuldig shot Crawford an amused look, which made the stern American clear his throat. Across the room, a single amber eye shot open and the man's head tilted as he took in his visitors. Scars littered his face and neck, from small nicks to a few long gashes. Schuldig wasn't surprised. It was easy for Schuldig to access his mind, slipping through the natural walls and into the depths of his thoughts. Schuldig took a step back when the images and words hit him in full force.

_His hair is too bright. Red. Blood. Bleeding. Christ hanging from the chains of his god. Abbas, Abbas. The father has fallen and now the new leaders have arrived. White suit, bright like an angel. How does he bleed? How does he scream?_

Schuldig pulled out of the man's mind, blinking and shaking his head to clear his own thoughts. Schuldig remained back as Crawford took a single step forward, signaling that the man should pay attention. 

"You are Farfarello, correct?" Crawford asked. Farfarello blinked his single eye, waiting. Schuldig could almost feel the uneasy desire that Crawford was pushing down. Normally Crawford's shields were solid, stronger than Schuldig's were to a certain extent, but being here near Farfarello was making them crumble.

 _Be careful, oh fearless leader_ , Schuldig sent to Crawford. _The snake isn't only interested in Eve, anymore._

Crawford didn't bother to reply. Really, he didn't need to be careful; seeing how he knew the many different paths this moment could take before they happened. Crawford stared down at Farfarello. "I come with a business proposition."

"And what does St. Peter wish to trade?" Farfarello replied. His voice had the soft slant of the Irish accent, which they would have to train him to eliminate for their type of work. Accented assassins were too easy to find. 

Crawford paused at the name he had just been given. "Your services, actually."

"The insanity leaks, spreading like a dark void into the crisp light," Farfarello whispered, voice raspy. Schuldig was almost certain he could see a shiver run down Crawford's spine. Of course. Crawford had to go for the truly insane. "Explain yourself."

The order was terse and to the point. Dangerous, definitely.

"I work for an organization specializing--" Schuldig turned him out. He had heard all of this before. Why Crawford couldn't simply say they wanted Farfarello to join them and help them guard some idiot politician while destroying a few lives in the process, Schuldig didn't know.

Schuldig entertained himself by digging himself back into Farfarello's mind. Images flittered toward him: a cross with blood sliding down it, bodies mutilated, an abstract image that translated into a violent and unjust God, and finally Schuldig's own body with his eyes and ears ripped out. Schuldig jerked out to find Farfarello staring at him.

"St. Peter consorts with Judas," Farfarello snickered.

"What do you mean by St. Peter?" Crawford asked, monotone.

"The leader, the rock, and the creator of an outlawed group," Farfarello murmured softly. He blinked up at Crawford, as though just noticing he was there. "You wish to overthrow the ones in power and bring forth a revolution."

"Ohhh, he's good," Schuldig purred, nearly in Crawford's ear. Crawford made a point to step away from him.

"Very well. Knowing all of this, would you agree to joining us?" Crawford asked, making it obvious he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Payment," Farfarello stated. His eye rolled to the door. "In advance."

Crawford paused, before turning to give Schuldig a nod. Slowly, Schuldig stretched out his telepathy, reaching the doctor's mind a few feet outside the door and giving him the sudden urge to come into Farfarello's cell. As the door started to open, Farfarello stood. His arms were still bound in the straightjacket, keeping most of him immobile, as he got to his feet in an elegant move. He stared at the doctor, the one that drugged him and kept him bound in this small room, with a hungry expression. 

Shockingly, Farfarello looked to Crawford for permission as the door was shut behind the dazed doctor.

Slowly, Crawford walked over and began unbuckling the straightjacket. Farfarello remained still, but watched Crawford with an almost rapture filled look. Schuldig released a small amount of control over the doctor, allowing him to see what was happening around him but still keeping him from leaving.

"What in the world are you doing?" he demanded, staring with wide eyes as the straightjacket slowly tumbled to the floor.

Crawford met Farfarello's eyes and Schuldig could almost feel the connection and trust that had suddenly appeared there. "Your terms have been met."

"And the bloody lamb shall fall, another body and another death," Farfarello whispered, walking toward the doctor.

It was quick and violent. Schuldig had never seen so much blood. It splattered in vibrant designs along the padded walls. The doctor had barely screamed before Farfarello had ripped out his throat. What was left of the body was practically shredded, chucks of flesh lying useless on the floor. Farfarello had done all of that within the span of a few minutes, with his bare hands. 

The arousal radiating off of Crawford battered against Schuldig's mental shields.

"Excellent," Crawford said in his calm, soft voice. It was the voice that Schuldig knew Crawford must use during sex. 

Farfarello looked up from the finger he was licking clean. "Shall we dance?"

"We shall," Crawford agreed. "Schuldig? Can you handle the guards releasing Farfarello?"

"Kid's stuff," Schuldig leered.

Schuldig figured it was poetic narration for their third member to actually have come from an insane asylum. He and Crawford were certifiably psychotic, so this was pure and simple irony, at its best.

**Author's Note:**

> "Abbas" is Latin for Father.


End file.
